


In My Veins

by joss80



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Episode: s12 e23 The Lost Boys, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joss80/pseuds/joss80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately post-ep for 12x23: The Lost Boys. Gibbs struggles with his ghosts and Tony tries to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> For a little something extra, PLEASE listen to "In My Veins" by Andrew Belle. The song fits so perfectly with post-ep feels!

The ghosts. They were right there with him, right there every time he dared to close his eyes and rest his head back against the seat as Tony drove the two of them back to NCIS.

So he didn’t. Didn’t close his eyes, tried to sit up straight and pay attention to where they were going, but the route they wove through D.C. was all too familiar and his mind kept wandering back. Back. Way back. Kate. Mike. Diane.

No!

His body almost leaped up off of the seat and away from the headrest, and he saw the wildness that he was sure was in his own eyes reflected there in Tony’s as the younger man veered off at the next exit and took another all-too-familiar path with the Charger.

It was five minutes or twenty, he really couldn’t tell, before the car pulled to an abrupt stop outside his house. Tony was there at his door, opening it, coaxing him out of the car and Gibbs felt himself wanting to give the man hell for babying him like that but he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything because hell was where they were both at already.

And so they went, through the gate in the white picket fence, up the stairs, through the front door, and then Tony was forcibly holding him up against the wall inside as Gibbs felt the last of his energy drowning away with the remnants of his soul.

“God, this is just the beginning…” he managed to groan out against Tony’s neck, but he felt himself held firmer, held secure in some sort of temporary haven of strong arms as Tony leaned in to whisper empty reassurances against the shell of his ear.

Gibbs felt something primal stir inside himself at that, his innate need to protect _his_ people warring with the emptiness and uncommon insecurity inside himself, warring with the fact that the juxtaposition within was being soothed by the only person he truly trusted at the only time when his carefully-built walls had crumbled beyond repair.

“Tony!” Gibbs cry was almost a plea as he clenched his fist and slammed it against Tony’s back, unable to voice the hurt and pain of years and years of loss. He felt tears prick at the corners of his tightly-shut eyes, but refused to let them fall as his other fist connected with his SFA’s back, with less impact this time but with just as much emotional weight behind it. And Tony just held him closer, pressed their bodies together as the jolts from the strikes reverberate softly back through to him… protecting him from himself.

He tried to push Tony away at that realization, the need to run or hide or fight energizing him suddenly. _He_ was the strong one. _He_ was the leader. He needed to take this one just like he’d taken all the others, with a hefty bottle or six of Bourbon and some time to build build _build_ his mental fortress back around himself. Impermeable. Until the next time….

“Stop, Jethro!” Tony yelled at him, yelled right in his fucking face, and he was so surprised and taken aback that he did stop for a second. But only to challenge.

“Dorneget.” The word fell unbidden from his lips in a harsh hiss as he stared Tony in the face, almost daring the younger man to tell him to stop again.

“Stop _thinking_ ,” Tony implored, and he watched as if from far away as Tony’s face drifted closer to his. “Start _feeling_.”

“If this is more advice from your fucking Men’s Group –”

Warm lips were against his, lips that he’d seen coming but _not,_ at the same time. Inches apart were like worlds apart until they weren’t, until Tony pressed into him again and drove him back against the wall. His head connected and his eyes slammed closed, and the ghosts were suddenly there again. But only for a moment, only until those warm lips met his for the second time in as many seconds, and then they evaporated behind his eyelids as sensation took over.

He was helplessly lost, floating and responding as his fingers grabbed at the lapels of Tony’s jacket and pulled the man even closer. But then rational thought took over again, pushing into his brain and in turn making him push back against and away from Tony. But the man didn’t let go, fought back even though their mouths had separated in a mutually angry huff, and he watched the intense eyes watch him back.

“What the hell, DiNozzo?” he managed to sputter out, feeling like a drowning man unsure of which life jacket to take. He could feel his pulse pounding through his veins, his heart veritably palpitating in his chest, and he somehow knew that neither fight nor flight was going to happen.

“Work it out. _With_ me,” Tony implored again, green eyes piercing in the waning afternoon light.

Tony’s face drifted closer again, and Gibbs fought against the urge to flinch as warm breath grazed over his jaw and down his neck. His eyes drifted closed of their own accord as Tony’s lips and tongue sucked a path along a tendon in his neck, and the ghosts were there again but so was the deep dark depth of desire, swirling in billowing eddies around the damning pictures in his mind’s eye.

His knees threatened to buckle as Tony pressed his tongue hard along a particularly sensitive patch near the junction of his jaw and ear, and he felt himself pressing back into Tony, not away. He kept his eyes closed as he lifted his hands to pull at Tony’s face, guiding those lips back across his jaw to feather over his cheek before sliding across his own.

He wasn’t aware of the tear that slid down his cheek until the salty taste of it mingled with the strength of their kiss, easing its way into his mouth along with Tony as their tongues tentatively sought each other out. More fell as he pushed Tony’s jacket off and pulled at the man’s tie, and as Tony deftly unbuttoned his shirt in return, and he could see the grief and pain reflected back at him in the brief moments when he opened his eyes to invite Tony upstairs with a slight tilt of his head.

The curtains were still drawn from the morning - or was it from the morning before that? – as Tony pressed him down onto his own bed and swiftly divested them both of their remaining clothes. And then Tony was on top of him, pressing kisses to his neck and chest before seeking out Gibbs’ lips again as their bodies molded together and his eyes drifted closed again. Gibbs was vaguely aware of his own arousal climbing as Tony moved against him, and then highly aware as the fog in his brain shifted the moment that Tony’s erection pushed against his own with purpose.

He flung out a hand blindly, streaks of silent tears staining his face as his fingers closed around a bottle of lube in the drawer of the bedside table, and he pressed it forcefully into Tony’s palm. Worries about condoms didn’t cross his mind – he knew Tony would say something if he wasn’t clean. But Tony kept silent as his lips left Gibbs’ and he sat up, straddling him. Gibbs opened his eyes a fraction to watch in disbelief and anticipation as Tony slicked his own hand with the liquid and then deftly wrapped his fingers around Gibbs cock. Their eyes met as Tony moved his hand firmly up and down a time or two, and Gibbs’ couldn’t help the surrendering gasp that escaped his mouth as Tony leaning forward over him, kissed his mouth once more, and then sank backwards and down onto him.

His eyes wouldn’t have stayed open if he’d tried. And so he didn’t, as the ghosts faded into the background and the indescribable pressure built between their bodies, and he reached out one more time to wrap his own fingers around Tony’s cock as the man pumped backward and forward through them in a stuttering rhythm.

“God, Jethro,” Tony cried out, and those words seemed to break through his headspace somehow. He opened his eyes slowly, still fighting against the dim light until his gaze landed on Tony’s face which was thrown back in pleasure, eyes closed. And then he simply couldn’t tear his gaze away, because this was _for_ him and _because_ of him and he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything quite so entrancing. The pleasure in his body spiked then, and spiked again as Tony tilted his head forward and opened his eyes and locked them with Gibbs’ own blue ones.

He saw the younger man’s mouth fall open a moment later, and a wordless and silent cry that he could _feel_ filled the space around them as Tony came hard over his belly and chest, glazed eyes still fixed on his. And it was too much, all too much as Gibbs felt himself spilling over the top, the white-hot pleasure shooting through his body as he pushed up into Tony over and over again until he was emptied physically and emotionally.

He felt Tony slump down next to him, wasn’t quite sure what to do or say until he felt soft material rubbing along his front as Tony cleaned him up with someone’s clothing. And then sheets and blankets were pulled up and an arm landed casually across his stomach.

“Sleep now, worry about the world tomorrow,” came the muffled, tired voice from next to him.

And somehow he did.


End file.
